


the black pillar cracks beneath its weight

by chidorinnn



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8032417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chidorinnn/pseuds/chidorinnn
Summary: Nyx is twelve years old when Castle Krakenburg welcomes her with open arms as a royal mage. Assassinating the king's mistresses and illegitimate children was nowhere in the job description.





	the black pillar cracks beneath its weight

**Author's Note:**

> It's so incredibly annoying how Nyx's entire existence in Fates is for pure fanservice and creepy ship bait. If her entire character is based around how she's so much older than she looks, then what exactly did she live through? Did she live through the rise and fall of King Garon? Did she live through the deaths of both his queens? Here's my (probably flimsy) attempt to make sense of it all.

Nyx is twelve years old when Castle Krakenburg welcomes her with open arms as a royal mage. It’s the warmest welcome she’s ever received.

Technically, there has always been a need for mages in Nohr’s capital. A strong defense is needed, after all, and what better defense is there than a hex designed to keep out intruders? There is no longer a queen that sits on Nohr’s throne, and the whole kingdom is in mourning – it would be the perfect opportunity for an enemy to strike.

It feels good to be needed. It feels good to be able to perform whatever hex she wants, to experiment with as many different styles of magic as she wants, without anyone looking on in horror – after all, how could such a sweet-looking young girl find pleasure in something so vile?

There is a boy her age with whom she is immediately paired. His smile is sickly sweet as he extends a pale hand out towards her, and his hair, black as an oil slick, falls limp in waves and curls over his face and to his shoulders. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Nyx,” he says, his voice too unnaturally smooth for his intentions to be entirely genuine. “My name is Iago. I look forward to working with you in the future.”

Nyx slaps his hand away in what she will later look back on as childish arrogance. “Just stay out of my way,” she says harshly in response.

* * *

There are many secrets in Windmire, and even more within Castle Krakenburg – more than a king has any right to have. 

It’s hardly Nyx’s business, but she is forced to care when her first assignment is from a noble named Fredericka. “Oh, it’s just about the simplest thing in the world,” the noblewoman tells her with a haughty laugh. “I don’t need something that will kill her immediately. Let her waste away as slowly and painfully as possible.”

Nyx doesn’t mention how such a hex is, in fact, far more complicated than whatever an average mage could hope to accomplish, because she is no average mage. She doesn’t mention how the target, another noblewoman named Lady Belinda, had been particularly insistent that King Garon and his tacticians not overwork Nyx since she is, in their eyes, little more than a child.

So Nyx answers: “As you wish, milady.”

She doesn’t learn until long after Lady Belinda passes away, months after the hex is cast, that the target had been pregnant with King Garon’s child. “She meant to betray the crown, of course,” Lady Fredericka offers flippantly, as way of explanation.

* * *

Nyx is thirteen years old when Iago kisses her for the first time. It’s not a courteous kiss on the back of her hand or even a harmless peck on her cheek – his lips are simply on hers one moment, when just a short while ago, they were not. It does not occur to her that this should be odd, even though he is her partner and she spends more time with him than she does with anyone else in the castle.

She doesn’t think to hex him. Perhaps if she were older, she would think to curse his entire bloodline for generations, for even daring to make such a move. But Nyx is thirteen years old, and the concept of those around her caring if she lives or dies, even if it’s only because her skills are of some value to them, is new and foreign to her. She blinks at her partner slowly, feeling nothing but mild confusion from what had just happened. “Why did you do that?” she asks.

Iago smirks at her in return. “Simply laying claim to what’s mine,” is all he says, and then he turns his back on her to return to his work. Lady Fredericka has asked them to procure another hex for her, this time to kill another noblewoman named Lady Julissa instantly. Theoretically, it shouldn’t take quite so long to weave such a spell, but Lady Fredericka had insisted on meticulous detail to the circumstances of Lady Julissa’s impending death. And then, as always, it will be Nyx’s duty to finish the job and cast the hex, while Iago watches from the sidelines and receives the most praise and recognition for the deed.

(”She means to betray the crown, of course,” Lady Fredericka had said, as she did for every noblewoman Nyx had struck down on her behalf.)

Nyx purses her lips together, all youthful arrogance and self-righteous pride. “And since when was I yours?”

Iago chuckles, and it sends a shiver down her spine. “Since you walked through these halls, my dearest. Or, should I say before then? Back when you were first promised to be my partner in all of these… endeavors.”

(”I hope you burn,” she will say to him years later, when he is no longer her partner and she has allied herself with people who oppose him.)

“Just stay out of my way,” she says harshly in response.

* * *

Lady Fredericka does not stop at noblewomen – a year into her service at Castle Krakenburg, Nyx is ordered to curse a child. Lady Fredericka’s explanation seems flimsier, less believable now, because there is no way someone half of Nyx’s age or less could possibly pose such a serious threat to the crown. 

It hardly matters. Nyx’s place in Windmire depends on how well she performs as a royal mage, and if her superiors order her to curse children, then she has no choice but to comply – and oh, how quickly the children fall.

(It’s this thought alone that keeps her sane in the years to come – because what kind of monster would willingly hurt an innocent child? For decades, she will remember the damage she caused, the lives she devastated, but she wills herself to forget the pure, unadulterated glee of mastering a new hex, of the pride of her curses somehow, impossibly meeting Lady Fredericka’s increasingly specific demands.)

And then, when Nyx is fourteen years old, she is given a new task – to kill the current queen of Nohr, King Garon’s second wife Arete. The curse requested will ideally make the foreign queen waste away in a way so similar to the late Queen Katerina’s terminal illness. It doesn’t eat away at her conscience like many of her previous assignments do. Iago leaps into the task with glee, and if Nyx didn’t know better she would think that Queen Arete had personally wronged him in some grievous way.

Iago drapes his arm around her shoulders late one night, hours after the rest of the castle should have retired to bed. His touch doesn’t startle her like it should, and his voice does not send shivers down her spine. “You know, we don’t have to follow Lady Fredericka’s orders _quite_ so precisely,” he whispers. “Lady Katerina spent much of her last year sleeping – though if Lady Arete were to spend every such moment in pain, then perhaps…”

Nyx tunes him out, as she has become accustomed to doing in his presence, and focuses on her curse. Lady Fredericka’s orders would be laughably easy to fulfill, but to go along with Iago’s plans would provide a challenge – and work at the castle has become so dreadfully dull, as of late.

(”She has no respect for us!” Lady Fredericka had shrieked upon delivering her orders. “She knows nothing about what goes on behind the castle’s walls. Nothing! And she has the audacity to just… _take_ him? He’s not hers to take! He’s ours! He’s _mine_!”)

Years later, Nyx will try to rationalize that it had always been her intention to get caught by Lady Arete – perhaps it was a subconscious compulsion stemming from guilt, for having devastated so many lives while working as a royal mage. But there is no guilt that plagues her when she goes to Lady Arete’s chambers in the dead of night. She has no idea that King Garon’s second queen can see things that his other mistresses can’t.

There is no scorn in Lady Arete’s expression when her eyes fall on Nyx that night – only a hint of sadness, and enough pity to turn Nyx’s stomach – as if Nyx isn’t a monster, as if she is more than an object of fear and disgust. “I knew that someone would be sent for me tonight,” the queen says in a strong, deep, yet lilting voice. It puts Nyx at ease in a way that it should not, and it makes her want to drop her guard. “But to send someone so young…”

Lady Arete takes Nyx’s face in hers, propping her head up with a delicate hand under her chin, and then cupping her cheek with that hand. Nyx has never known someone so gentle; she leans into her touch despite her better judgment. “This is no life for you, little one,” Lady Arete says. 

It’s so, so foolish of hers, but tears spring to Nyx’s eyes. Lady Arete sighs, and a small smile graces her features as she rubs her thumb over Nyx’s cheek to wipe away the tears that escape. “Perhaps if you worked for me instead…”

Nyx stumbles back, recoiling. Lady Arete means to use her, of course – it’s all anyone ever wants of her. But, for some reason, the thought doesn’t fill her with pride as it has so many times before. Instead, her chest hurts, and she’s powerless against the tears that continue to make her eyes burn. 

“S-Stay away from me!” she cries as she bolts out the door. Lady Arete raises her hand in silent protest, opening her mouth with a half-formed word at her lips, but then sighs and lets Nyx go.

The next day, Nyx receives a slap on the same cheek that Lady Arete had so kindly touched and a harsh rebuke for her failure. Iago’s eyes gleam, a half-formed smirk at his lips, while Lady Fredericka stalks away.

* * *

Nyx is almost fifteen years old when she receives her last mission. Even with all the work she’s done, it seems that there truly is no end to King Garon’s mistresses – and worse, his children. Lady Fredericka’s target is another mistress who is stated to be in labor. The curse requested is to kill both the mistress and her child. It’s a complicated curse – far to complicated for just one mage, no matter how powerful, to cast.

Iago poses as a healer as the enter the mistress’s chambers. Nyx, a midwife. They set to work immediately and set up the necessary boundaries. The pale-haired mistress screams in pain, and there is no pang of guilt when Nyx begins the first incantations, but her tome feels oddly heavy in her hands. Her voice seems to melt into Iago’s, even as they chant different words. The healers don’t suspect a thing.

And then, the door bursts open. Years later, Nyx will blame her foolishness and naiveté – of course she would be caught, when her mission is to be carried out in the open instead of from the shadows, out of the public eye as all her previous tasks had been before. When she sees that it’s Lady Arete that storms in, Nyx falters.

She doesn’t notice that Iago has abandoned his post, abandoned _her_ , until there’s suddenly too much dark magic swirling about the room – too much for any one mage, no matter how powerful, to handle. Lady Arete’s golden eyes narrow as Nyx refocuses and struggles to contain the enormous amount of magic swirling about the room.

King Garon’s mistress screams. The healers shout orders to one another. A wisp of dark magic that escapes the swirl strikes one of them dead. 

(Years later, Nyx will see this as the moment when her sins finally catch up to her. After all, no one can cheat karma, and everyone will have to pay their dues someday.)

And then, there’s another voice joining her in the incantations. It’s not Iago – and Nyx doesn’t even want to know where he is, or what he’s doing – but someone kinder and gentler, unsuited for the kind of dark magic that swirls about the room.

Though it may have been ordered at some point, Nyx does not want to let Lady Arete die – so she draws the magic inward. It needs to go somewhere, and if it goes anywhere else in the room, then it will destroy everyone regardless. There’s never been much in the way of conscience for her, and yet, Nyx can’t help but think back to that night in the queen’s chambers, to be looked at with something other than revulsion or horror, or even cold practicality.

Lady Arete’s golden eyes widen when she sees what Nyx is doing, and she begins chanting incantations of her own. It’s a sort of magic that Nyx has never seen or heard of before, but it takes the edge off the pain that suddenly makes it difficult to concentrate on anything. Maybe it’s countering her own magic – and, belatedly, Nyx berates herself for not weaving a stronger spell, if it can be undone even slightly by outside forces.

It’s over before it can ever truly begin, and Lady Arete’s face hovering anxiously above hers is the last thing Nyx sees before succumbing to unconsciousness. 

(Later, when she thinks back on the incident, she will hear an infant crying as well.)

* * *

Nyx doesn’t keep up with Nohrian politics, as the years go on. She doesn’t think of Iago, or of Lady Fredericka, or even of Lady Arete as she wanders the kingdom on her own, trapped in a child’s body in a cruel subversion of the last hex she cast as a royal mage of Castle Krakenburg.

Perhaps, if she was older, things could have gone differently – she could have been among King Garon’s mistresses, instead of serving as their lackey. Perhaps, if she was younger, she could have brought herself – proud, foolish, and so full of youthful arrogance – to fall in love with Prince Xander and carve a better life for herself at his side.

(She does, however, allow herself to fantasize about what could have happened had she allied herself with Lady Arete instead, all those many years ago. Perhaps, if it had been her instead of Lady Fredericka, Nyx could have been happy. She could have been _loved_.)

Years later, she finds herself by Fort Dragonfall, the stronghold overtaken by Hoshidan forces. It’s hardly her business, even as Nohrian royalty clashes with the Hoshidan general stationed there – Nohrian politics have never been her business, even when she had a hand in them. 

But in the fortress’s midst – no, it couldn’t be. Lady Arete has been dead for a long time.

Despite her better judgment, Nyx leaps into the fray. She thinks of that day all those many years ago, when she had taken the curse that would have killed Lady Arete onto herself and somehow, impossibly, survived. She thinks of the Nohrian queen at her bedside when she awakened days later, and how she later helped her escape the castle while reporting to all who asked that Nyx had died in her sleep.

The girl in the middle of Fort Dragonfall is not Lady Arete. She has the same face, though her voice is higher-pitched, airy where Lady Arete’s was firm and yet just as strong. “Who are you?” the girl who is not Lady Arete asks, only a hint of surprise in her expression.

Nyx doesn’t answer her, as she flings a weak Fire spell into the Hoshidan spearman that means to kill her.


End file.
